Haunting
by BoomChick
Summary: The last thing Zack wants is to spend the night at the Golden Saucer's Haunted Inn. Especially if it means sharing a room with Sephiroth. Can a series of hauntings repair such a broken friendship? Warnings for Blood, gore, suicidal imagery, Survivor's Guilt, flashbacks, horror elements, and child endangerment/death. Proceed with caution. Mentions of Zack/Aerith and Seph/Cloud.


**A/N: **What was supposed to be a goofy Halloween oneshot turned into a dark rumination on a broken friendship between broken people. This is not a friendly piece. It gets pretty rough. If you have issues revolving around survivor's guilt, suicide, and/or child endangerment and death, this may not be the fic for you. Proceed with caution—There is some pretty serious graphic imagery ahead. I love you guys, and I don't want to hurt anyone. (Hugs!)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FFVII or anything related to it. Please support and adore the official releases!

**Haunting—A FFVII Oneshot**

Zack watched Sephiroth closely as they walked through the lobby to the kitschy old haunted house inn at Golden Saucer. The General had been twitchy all day, as simple as their mission had been. The desert wastes by the resort had been infested by a particularly nasty set of wyrms. It had taken hours of walking through the heat to destroy them all.

It was kind of Dio to put them up for the night, in his own way. He might have been a bit of a scam artist, but Zack liked him.

The only problem was, the last time he'd come to the haunted house, he'd thought it was funny. Now it made his skin crawl.

The hanged man dropped from the ceiling as the tongue-in-cheek greeter. Sephiroth twitched at Zack's side. Zack tried not to think of Angeal. Tried not to look at the ghosts and gravestones around them and let the real world creep in. It was just a game, after all. Just for fun. From the way Sephiroth's eyes were tight at the corners with tension, he wasn't any happier with the games around them.

Zack thanked the folks at the desk for their keys and dragged Sephiroth upstairs by one arm. At least, he tried to. Sephiroth pulled his hand away in moments. Zack tried not to let the way he was brushed off sting.

A deep part of him wished that it was anyone but Sephiroth there with him. Anyone else he could have spoken to with a wry smile about his feelings and his sorrows. If it had been Cloud, he might have wrangled a noogie.

With Sephiroth, he dared not say anything of what the jokes of murder were doing to his heart.

The room had two beds, and some highly obnoxious decor, but Zack was deeply relieved to find that it was full of sarcophaguses and spider webs rather than gravestones and nooses.

"You want the bed by the window?" he asked as he held the door open for Sephiroth.

Fake lightning flashed outside, and the General grimaced.

"I don't suppose the curtains are any realer than the rest of this place." He rumbled.

"I'll take that as a 'no, Zack, you help yourself to that bed.' And I think the curtains do work, actually."

He wandered over to draw them closed over the silly lightshow outside. When he turned back to the room, it was to find Sephiroth sitting on the far bed with his head in one hand. The mirror behind him flickered with reflected fake lightning, and Zack flicked the curtains a little more firmly shut.

"You okay?" Zack asked, jumping onto the bed and smiling a little as the springs creaked at his weight.

"Too many mechanics." Sephiroth muttered. "And sound effects. The noise is grating."

"You wanna go?" Zack asked, tilting his head, not daring to hope.

_Please let's get out of here._ He begged silently.

"It's fine." Sephiroth said after a moment. "It is very late. They turn off the attractions around eleven, do they not?"

"Yeah, I think so." Zack said with a little shrug. "It's been a long time since I was here."

"Me too." Sephiroth muttered.

"What, you've been here before?" The First asked, flopping back onto his bed.

On the ceiling, someone had painted '_Run_' in very intentionally sloppy letters. Zack turned on his side to avoid looking at it. Somehow, he found it deeply annoying that they'd painted it in the bright color of fresh blood instead of the oxidized brown actual blood would have become within just a few hours of being exposed to air.

"Just once." The General murmured. "A long time ago."

"Well?" Zack said after a moment of silence. "You aren't going to tell me any more than that?"

"I'm going to take a shower." Sephiroth said instead. "Good night, Zackary."

Zack stared at him as he wandered off, then huffed. His own reflection in the mirror by Sephiroth's bed pouted back at him. He flopped onto the sheets, turning over and frowning. He stayed motionless until he heard the water turn on, then rolled out of bed. He started doing squats mindlessly, keeping his eyes on the closed curtains, and his ears focused on the shower's running water rather than the phony screams from downstairs, and the creaking of the rope that the 'hangman' dangled from.

"Just one night." He reminded himself, his jaw clenched. "Just one night."

He did squats until Sephiroth's shower cut off. Then he stripped out of his belt and pauldrons to lie on the bed as though he'd never moved from there. The phony candles on the wall dimmed, and the whole building seemed to settle.

"Back just in time for lights-out." Zack said with a sigh.

"Hn." Sephiroth sat on the other bed. Zack couldn't see him, but he heard the slow complaint of the springs as the enormous Soldier sat on the surface. "Sorry to keep you up."

"You didn't." Zack sighed. "You're not the only one with enhanced hearing, you know."

"It was bothering you?"

Zack glanced back at Sephiroth with a faint frown.

"Well, yeah. I mean, it's pretty obtrusive. And a little dark."

"I thought you liked this kind of thing." Sephiroth said, blinking at him. "You were always complaining about not getting any vacation time to come here."

"I was." Zack said after a moment. "But that was before…"

He trailed off. He dared not speak openly with Sephiroth. Not about this.

"Anyway, it's over now. Let's get some sleep and head out early tomorrow."

"Zackary…"

"Good night, Seph." He said, a little too loudly. He winced as he spoke the words. They were harshly said. Unnecessarily so. It seemed he was unable to be anything but harsh to Sephiroth recently. He knew the bitterness in his heart and the hot anger in his chest were misdirected, but that didn't make them feel any less real.

"Good night." The General said after a moment, his voice low and blank, as though he hadn't noticed the rage in Zack's words.

The lights flickered off, and Zack tried not to listen as Sephiroth lay down slowly and stiffly on the bed. The springs of the other mattress made not another sound once the man was lying, and Zack didn't allow himself to fidget either. He closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

Sleep didn't come. He closed his eyes tighter, and tried to pretend it. He did squats in his mind, and fought not to let his legs twitch. Behind him was silence. Sephiroth was still as stone, but Zack couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not. Sephiroth was still most of the time. He moved when he had cause to, but he carried none of the oh-so-human urge to fidget that Zack expected from people.

All at once, between one breath and the next, all the humming that had filled the air with white noise stopped. All the machinery, all the whirrs of electronics—it all went absolutely silent rather than just the toned-down hum from when the clock hit eleven. For a moment, Zack relaxed in the unexpected quiet. Then an uneasy feeling crawled up his spine.

"Seph?" He said softly.

"I know." The voice of the General murmured from behind him. "The power is out. And I do not hear a single being in this building except for you and I."

"No footsteps." Zack whispered, sitting up slowly and glancing to the door. "No creaky mattresses, not even any breathing."

"Perhaps we are the only tenants tonight." Sephiroth suggested.

Zack glanced over and found the silver-haired man laying on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Zack glanced over the other man's bed to the word scrawled there in fake blood. _Guilty,_ it read.

"Unlikely." Zack offered after a moment.

"Highly." Sephiroth agreed, standing off the bed in a smooth movement. "Shall we?"

"You'd better put some clothes on first." Zack suggested, turning to tie on his boots. "As effective as the shock-and-awe treatment would be against anyone we came across."

Sephiroth grunted, though whether it was in amusement or annoyance was extraordinarily difficult to discern. Zack flashed him a brief, half-true grin. Then he sobered, standing with his boots on. He held still while Sephiroth dressed, focusing his enhancements to try listening for anything at all in the vast old mansion.

"I don't get it." He murmured, reaching to his sword harness and strapping it on slowly. "There ought to be something. This is creepy. I wish Cloud was here. Then at least we could have one normal person to look at us like we're crazy and tell us to settle down."

"I wish Cloud was here too." Sephiroth muttered. He didn't say the words kindly. He sounded weary and frustrated. Zack tried not to be stung, but the words still hurt.

"Let's just see what's going on." Zack muttered, walking to the door and lifting Buster Sword onto his back—a familiar burden.

Sephiroth didn't even bother answering. He stepped up behind Zack and waited. The door unlocked and opened with an almost comically loud squeak, but Zack didn't smile. Outside, the hallway was dark. He took a moment standing still to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He felt the mako inside himself working hard to compensate.

Sephiroth stepped past him, his unusual gaze already focused and sharp. He looked up and down the hallway, then gestured right with two fingers. Zack nodded his approval, following Sephiroth down the hall. The floor creaked under their heavy boots.

"Do you smell that?" Zack asked softly.

"I smell only dust." Sephiroth rumbled in reply.

"Yeah," Zack said, "That's the problem. This place is a _fake_ haunted house. They keep it spotless except for the pieces they design to look dirty. I didn't smell any dust at all when we first showed up."

Sephiroth breathed out sharply through his nose, shaking his head a little. He kept walking, and Zack stayed just a pace behind him.

Ahead, something shifted. Both Soldiers froze, and Zack put his hand on Buster Sword's hilt, ready to strike. Sephiroth's hand was half-extended, ready to summon Masamune. But whatever had shifted was still. The General hesitated a moment more, then started moving forward again.

Zack didn't bother warning him. He just followed, casting a glance behind them at the darkened hall. Sephiroth bent when they reached the end of the hall, looking for whatever they'd seen shifting.

"What is it?" Zack asked, his eyes still on the hallway.

Sephiroth did not reply for a long moment, and Zack turned to check on him.

The Silver General was standing there, a child's doll held in one hand. He was staring down at it with the strangest look on his face that Zack had ever seen there.

"A doll?" Zack asked, walking up to inspect it himself. It smiled an empty smile, its plush lips dimpling round cheeks, dark eyes glimmering with painted delight. "You're not scared of them, are you?"

"No." Sephiroth said after a moment. "Not scared."

"What's wrong then?" Zack asked, edging closer. "Is it a demon doll? Should I start running and sacrifice you to it to make my escape?"

"There is only one demon in this hallway, Zackary." Sephiroth said, his voice low and bleak. "And it is not the toy. Come. There is nothing here."

He set the toy down on the dresser. Zack didn't miss the way he carefully posed the little thing. He also didn't miss the slice through the doll's cheek, disfiguring an otherwise cherubic face. He kept his eyes on the toy a long while after Sephiroth had walked past him.

"Don't start walking around." He whispered to the doll. "I've had enough of creepy puppets and stuff, okay? And don't even think about eating my hair."

He followed after Sephiroth at a half-jog, trying not to let himself run. Running with something creepy at your back was a sure-fire way to invoke panic.

"Think Dio set this up as a little adventure for us?" He asked when he rejoined Sephiroth.

"If he did, I may very well kill him." Sephiroth said softly. "I do not enjoy such things."

"It was just a toy, right? You said so yourself."

"It was…" Sephiroth hesitated, his brows knitting. Zack watched the flickers of emotion that worked their way through his distant friend's layers of repression and onto his face. "It was in poor taste."

He stormed to the center of the building, taking the next hallway down. Zack followed with a frown.

Nothing moved on the other side of the hallway, but there was something out of place. Zack frowned as his eyes focused on the words scrawled on the wall.

"Why does it say _heroes_?" Zack asked, squinting. "That's the lamest scary message I've ever seen."

"You think so?" Sephiroth asked softly.

"Well, the massive sarcasm quotes are pretty rude, but… Ugh, gods, that smell… Is that…"

"It's written in blood." Sephiroth said dryly. "Actual blood."

"Who's?" Zack asked, horrified. He'd thought the color looked more realistic this time...

"Genesis." Sephiroth replied softly.

"He's dead!" Zack objected. "We haven't even seen any of his clones in the past four months! There's no way one of them set all this up."

"I know." Sephiroth said quietly. "But it smells like his."

"Seph… We should get out of here." Zack said after a moment. "Whoever's doing this, they're doing it to fuck with us. Specifically us. That doll back there, it wasn't just any old doll was it?"

He tried not to mention that the more he looked at the word 'heroes' on the wall, the more he wanted to tear out his own hair in sorrow. That the more he thought of the blood on his hands, the more he wished he could cut them off with his own blade. He knew Sephiroth blamed him for the deaths of his friends. He blamed himself too.

"Let's go." Sephiroth agreed after a moment. "Though I would like to have words with Dio before we leave the building altogether."

Zack led the way back towards the center staircase, keeping his steps even. He felt like running would make the very shadows follow in furious pursuit.

Sephiroth followed slower behind him. Even from where he was, separate and ahead, it sounded to Zack like something was dragging the General's steps. He turned back once, glancing to him, and found Sephiroth staring at the floor, his brows twisted, and his steps slowing further still.

"Seph?" Zack asked, hesitating.

"This building…" Sephiroth whispered. "We'd have heard someone… Wouldn't we? What if it's something else…"

"It's a tourist trap." Zack said firmly. "They're trying to freak us out so that they'll get some free publicity out of us. There aren't any ghosts."

Sephiroth said nothing. Zack reached out to catch his hand and tow him along, but Sephiroth shied from the touch, as he always did.

"What is wrong with you?" Zack asked, his voice sharp with frustration.

Sephiroth never got a chance to respond. Something made a terrible noise from the lobby. A rope cracked with strain. The sounds of bone snapping echoed. There was an awful, ugly gurgle. It was never a conscious choice for Zack to run towards the noise. He was running towards it before it was even completed.

He froze at the top of the stairs. His blood ran cold. His stomach twisted. The lightning illuminated the familiar figure in the noose. The dual wings twitched and fell still. The strong arms and warm hands twisted, then went unmoving. A familiar, friendly face frozen in discomfort, swollen—discolored—dead.

Someone was screaming. It might have been him. He stared up at the man he'd murdered—his friend, his mentor, his anchor. He gazed up at his dead face through eyes that couldn't focus anymore, and screamed until he was out of breath.

Then between one moment and the next, something massive blocked his view. Strong arms caught his shoulder in one hand and the back of his head in another, drawing him forward against a firm chest.

"Don't look." Sephiroth was ordering, his voice sharp. "Don't look, Zackary. Breathe."

Zack gasped in a breath, and screamed against Sephiroth's chest where he was pressed, not caring that his teeth grazed skin, and that his tears and spit were staining his General's chest. He screamed his horror and sorrow, his hands tangling into his own hair.

"Zackary." Sephiroth said sharply, giving him a shake, his voice tense and strained. "It's not him. I need you with me. I need you calm."

"I killed him!" The words tore from Zack. "I killed him!"

"He forced you." Sephiroth argued, his hands tightening where they gripped Zack on the back of one shoulder and the base of his skull. "He forced you, Zackary. You didn't have a choice. I know that and so do you. Breathe. We need to get out of here."

Lightning flashed again, and Zack stiffened. He turned in Sephiroth's arms, certain he'd heard something behind him. He stared at the specter before them, a man he didn't recognize, wearing a lab coat.

"My boy…" He was saying, lifting a hand.

Sephiroth's hand clenched on Zack's shoulder, and the General hauled him sharply. Zack stumbled behind him, but froze as they took two steps down the stairs only to come face-to-face with a woman, standing where moments ago there had been no one. Her face was hidden in her hands, her tears choking and soft. Sephiroth took a step back from her, eyes flickering like a trapped animal.

"No." Sephiroth whispered, looking almost sick with anxiety.

Zack fixed his gaze on Sephiroth's obvious panic. He did not allow himself to look at the shadow of the figure in the noose. He did not let himself think about it.

"Come on!" He said sharply. "Our room. We can at least make a concentrated stand there!"

Sephiroth didn't pull away when Zack caught his arm this time. They ducked around the man in his coat and slid into the room. Zack dragged Sephiroth through, then closed the door hard and locked it behind them. Sephiroth grabbed the prop sarcophagus and shoved it against the door to act as a minor barricade.

"What the hell is going on?" Zack tried not to let his voice quaver as he spoke, wiping furiously at the tears on his cheeks. "Is this supposed to be a joke?"

Rage built within him in the place of horror, but he paused when Sephiroth reached out. The aloof man gripped Zack's shirt again, as though trying to find an anchor there.

"I never told anyone about the child." He whispered. "About the mother. It is no joke…"

"What child!?" Zack asked sharply, fighting the urge to dislodge Sephiroth's touch and escape the intimate conversation. "And what mother? Seph, what's going on?"

"If I knew I would tell you." His spoke through clenched teeth. "That doll… It was in Wutai, I wasn't used to—"

He broke off, his eyes closing. For a moment he grimaced, his teeth bared.

"There was a girl hiding." He whispered after a long moment. "I was fresh on the field. Overpowered and paranoid. She gasped when I stepped into the house. I struck without thinking."

Zack froze, staring at him. Sephiroth opened his eyes, and they glowed—filled with ghosts of the past.

"Her doll stayed long after she vanished into the lifestream." He whispered. "I cut its cheek when I stabbed her. She cried until the last moment, and I had no comfort to give."

"Her mother," Zack whispered. "The woman on the stairs. Did you kill her too?"

"I had no choice." Sephiroth's voice sounded like every word tore from the deepest part of him. "She left me no choice. I didn't want to hurt her."

"Guilt." Zack whispered, glancing to the word scrawled above Sephiroth's bed. "Is that what this is about?"

"Let's try the window." Sephiroth whispered after a moment, sounding raw and wounded.

Zack nodded, turning towards it. He took a step, then froze. Before them, Sephiroth was standing. Another Sephiroth. He stood there, shadowy, ephemeral. He smiled, but he did not move.

"Seph?" Zack whispered softly.

A pale hand landed on his shoulder and slowly drew him back. Sephiroth stepped between Zack and his own copy, summoning Masamune to his hand with a rush of power and the singing sound of bare steel.

"Try for the window." The man whispered. "One such as you should not be here, Zackary."

"Neither should you." Zack said sharply.

"You don't really believe that though, do you." Sephiroth said—The other Sephiroth. The shadow smiled its empty smile, eyes fixed on Zack. "It's my fault, isn't it. I gave you that mission. It wasn't Angeal who forced you to kill him. It was me."

Zack froze, staring at the shade. The rage that had burned inside him at his friend flickered in the face of his own thoughts turned on him.

Sephiroth—the real Sephiroth—held still and said nothing. He tightened his grip on his sword. His jaw clenched till Zack could hear his teeth grinding together. But he did not refute the copy's words.

"That's not true." Zack said, addressing his real friend. His voice was quiet, but he put as much conviction into it as he could. "I don't believe that, Seph."

"You never speak to me anymore." Sephiroth rasped. "Not without your mask of joy. You never call me by name, only the nickname you know annoys me. You snap, you chide, you are hurt, and I cannot heal what I have done. It is like the little girl all over. A selfish, defensive decision and I have ruined a life. Two lives…"

"Seph, I don't—"

"Don't lie to me." Sephiroth said, his voice dark. The words came from both Sephiroth's, an eerie symphony.

"I may be a fool when it comes to people, but I see and hear what you think of me, Zackary. I know the rage in your voice. I see the anger in your eyes."

"But it's wrong!" Zack stepped forward, catching Sephiroth's elbow.

The silver-haired man pushed him away, and Zack staggered, hurt by the refusal.

"Why won't you ever let me anywhere near you?" He asked sharply.

"You will hurt me." The second Sephiroth whispered. "They all hurt me."

"Stop." Sephiroth barked, glaring at the figure, then switching his glare to Zack. His gaze was pure panic, his pupils slit-thin, his lips pressed in a line.

Zack glanced to the copy, frowning at it. The double met his gaze, its eyes intense, its smile faltering. It grew grim and serious.

Zack turned to glance at the door, and froze. Before the sarcophagus was an image of himself, staring blankly at him, a mirror to Sephiroth's copy.

"What, you haven't drawn your sword?" The duplicate asked, his eyes dull, his expression strained. "You've murdered two of the trinity. Are you sure you don't want to make it three?"

"Fuck you." Zack said sharply, pointing at it. "Fuck this place! Seph, we've got to get out of here."

"Stop pretending you care." The other-him snapped. "He knows you're lying."

"You never should have tried." The fake Sephiroth whispered to its original. "You have only brought them pain. And now… Soon…"

"Soon…" Sephiroth replied. Zack saw him lower his blade. Saw the pain in his eyes. "Soon, I will bring ruin to Cloud as well…"

For a moment, all in the room was silent. Then something welled inside Zack. Something that could not see that broken look on Sephiroth's face. That could not stand his own weakness in the face of his guilt. He took a slow breath, whirling on his own copy.

"How dare you even suggest I would hurt my friend?" He snapped, snarling at it. "I don't know what the fuck you are, but if you do not fuck off right now, I will blow you to oblivion!"

"Still calling you a friend." The Sephiroth copy whispered. "Doesn't that twist the knife."

Zack didn't bother giving the ultimatum twice. He drew his sword and sliced.

The copy of Sephiroth was still for a moment. Then there was a sound like shattering glass. The image faded, leaving what looked like a cracked mirror hovering in the air. It twitched, thrashed, then faded, giving a keening noise.

"Monsters?" Zack whispered, startled as the mirror faded.

He turned to the door just in time to watch his own form vanish, the mirror creature fading back through the door. He stared after it, then scowled darkly.

"Come on, Seph, let's… Seph?"

The silver haired man was standing still, his sword lowered, his head bowed. He looked worn. He looked broken.

"Hey." Zack said softly, slinging his sword over his back again. "They're just monsters."

"What they show is not false." Sephiroth whispered.

"It's just one aspect." Zack said after a moment. "Sure my guilt is a little bitter… That doesn't mean it's the only part of me. And I'm sure the same is true for you."

"You hate me, don't you."

"Nah." Zack waved away the words, trying to look certain. "I don't understand you sometimes, but I don't hate you."

"It was my fault you were there."

"It was Genesis's fault I was there. And Angeal's I suppose. And Hollander's most of all. I don't—I _can't _blame you for not wanting to be the one to face him."

"I thought…" Sephiroth trailed off into silence before lifting his eyes to Zack. "I thought perhaps you would be able to talk sense into him. You are so much better than I am. At people. At friendships. I had hoped that you might save him."

"That's why you sent me?" Zack's chest tightened as he processed the halting admission.

"It was a mistake." Sephiroth's words sharpened like weapons as he spoke. "I was selfish. I was looking for a win-win situation. I should know by now that those are never the reality. Not in war."

"Why didn't you just tell me that?" Zack asked, pressing forward a little, trying to hide his sorrow with frustration.

"I couldn't let the president know. None of the higher ups could know. I never saw you alone at that time. By the time I got to speak with you in private…"

"They were already dead." Zack whispered. "And I wasn't being…"

He hesitated, searching for the words.

"You were devastated and angry." Sephiroth said after a moment. "Rightly so. I was your General. It was my duty to protect you. I failed in that."

Zack stared at his General's tense expression, then he slowly lowered his head, sliding his hands bashfully into his pockets.

"You might be my General," He spoke slowly—clearly. "But you're also my best friend. And in terms of being a friend, I failed you too. I know you're hurting, but I just… I try to talk to you, and all this bitterness swells up…"

"I don't blame you."

"That doesn't make it right." Zack insisted. "Look… They're monsters, right? They weren't here when we showed up. When the lights come on again, they'll be gone like nothing happened, I bet."

"And?" Sephiroth asked dully.

"And we might as well use the time to chat." Zack tried to summon some cheer into the words. "I don't think they'll bug us in here now that we've shown we can kill 'em. They seem like clever bastards, even if they're nasty ones."

"What's there to talk about?"

"The past, I guess." Zack said softly. "The future. You and Cloud. Me and Aerith. Our lives. I want to be your friend again, Seph." He shook his head, correcting himself. "Sephiroth."

"Why?" Sephiroth asked, the sword vanishing from his hand as he finally lifted his head. "Why would you want to know me, after all I have done?"

"It wasn't your fault either." Zack insisted, stepping forward. He started to reach out, but hesitated. "I'm… I'm sorry I didn't say that sooner…"

"I'm the one who should apologize."

"Yeah, but if we both apologize at each other all night, we'll waste the chance to talk it out."

Sephiroth tucked his chin, closing his eyes. Then he gave a slow nod.

"I suppose… It's as good a time as any."

"Yeah." Zack said softly. "And besides, I don't… I don't think I can face going in that hallway again…"

Sephiroth lifted his attention to Zack again, and empathy filtered into his cold face. He glanced at Zack's half extended hand, then lifted his own left hand to catch Zack in an awkward half-hand-hold. Zack blinked, staring at the odd hold on his fingers. Then he closed his grip around Sephiroth's. The grin he offered him was absolutely true.

"Spooky sleepover?" He offered. "We can sit on my bed together. You know, to avoid any monsters under the bed."

Sephiroth gave a very uneasy glance to the dark corner of the bed. Zack grinned, jumping onto the bed only a beat before his General. He gave a strained laugh, flopping to sit before Sephiroth.

"So." He said softly. "Talk to me."

"I think you'd better ask questions if you want to talk with me." Sephiroth replied, his eyes fixed on the barricaded door. "I never know where to start talking."

"Alright." Zack said. "Why don't you let me touch you?"

"It makes me anxious." Sephiroth responded without looking. "It's instinctive."

"You let Cloud touch you. You _used_ to let me touch you."

"You didn't used to be a First." The emptiness in Sephiroth's voice was a clear defense mechanism, as forced as Zack had ever heard it. "You could harm me now, if you cared to. Perhaps not much, but—"

"That's it?" Zack asked quizzically. "What are you going to do when Cloud is a First?"

Sephiroth ducked his chin, his brows twisting just a touch in concern. "I don't know."

"Hn. Trust exercises are a must, then. Hand me some of your hair. I'll braid it while we chat. Call it reconditioning."

"Are you sure I should call it that and not 'fidgeting?' "

"Well, I can't do squats because there are monsters! So I gotta have something to do!"

"Insatiable." Sephiroth sighed. "But if it will help…"

He pulled his hair over one shoulder, offering it to Zack. The dark-haired soldier froze a moment, then took the hair carefully, hesitating before starting to braid. He hadn't expected Sephiroth to agree, but he'd had enough practice with Aerith's hair to be reasonably good at it.

"When did you come here before?" He asked, hating to press on the bruise that was Sephiroth's past, but needing to at the same time.

"After the war." Sephiroth murmured, his eyes on Zack's fingers, following every twist of hair. "When we returned from constant deployment, they sent Angeal, Genesis and myself here for 'R&R.' It went predictably badly."

"I'm surprised it's still standing." Zack laughed.

"Hn." Sephiroth didn't crack as smile, but it didn't sound like an _upset_ noise either, so Zack didn't take it as a deterrent.

He finished the braid, then unwound it with brisk fingers, dissatisfied with its lopsidedness. Sephiroth's hair parted like water under his fingers, unnaturally smooth.

"Do you hate me?" He asked after a moment, as Sephiroth twitched at the touch.

"No." The reply was instant and gruff. "Even if I had doubted that you were forced, which I did not, what happened tonight would have left no question."

Zack shuddered, his fingers slipping in the braid. He undid his work again, divided the bundle of Sephiroth's hair in two, and started again with half the volume.

"And.. You do not hate me?" Sephiroth said in a quiet voice that was as uncertain as Zack had ever heard him.

"Nah." Zack said softly. "I wish you'd told me why you did it a long time ago, though."

"I know."

Sephiroth fell into silence, and Zack scooted a little closer, till their knees were nearly touching where they sat across from each.

"You miss them a lot, don't you." Zack trailed off, his voice quieting. He wished he'd left the statement unspoken the moment it left his lips.

Sephiroth still nodded, his green eyes flickering downwards. "All the time."

"I'm sorry."

"Tell me about your flower girl." Sephiroth said instead of continuing that conversation. "I wish to know more of her."

"Well, if you know how to build a wagon, I might introduce you sooner rather than later." Zack laughed awkwardly. "She thought mine was a little half-hearted."

"I doubt it." The Silver General lifted a hand, briefly pressing a finger over Zack's chest before removing the touch again. "I have never known you to be anything but wholehearted."

"Sap." Zack accused. "Cloud's making you soft."

"Probably." The other man agreed.

They were silent for a while, then Zack decided to indulge Sephiroth. He told him about Aerith's broken church, about her strict mother, about her fear of the sky and her delight in the world. He didn't tell him how she'd wrapped him in a hug that felt like home while he wept over the loss of Angeal. That was a moment just for him and for Aerith. He wondered if Cloud had been there to hold Sephiroth too. He wondered if Sephiroth had ever broken down in his life.

"How long has it been?" He asked after a while, his voice feeling a little strained from so long speaking.

"Two hours." Sephiroth replied. "And fourteen minutes, if that makes a difference."

"A long time." Zack said after a moment, knowing better than to second-guess Sephiroth's internal clock. "How long till sunrise?"

"Another half an hour before dawn begins." The man replied with a small nod.

"Well, that's about all I think I can tell you about Aerith. I guess you'd better tell me about Cloud."

"What about him? You are his best friend. I cannot very well tell you the color of his eyes and his likes and dislikes."

"Do you love him?" Zack offered, knowing it was a heavy conversation, but having worried for too long to let it pass while he had the chance.

Sephiroth's answer was not instant this time. His eyes fixed on Zack's fingers, which had stopped braiding at some point, and were just holding onto a strand of his hair.

"Do you know?" Zack followed his question after a moment.

"I think I do." Sephiroth whispered. "I certainly enjoy his company, and care for his safety and wellbeing. That is as much as I can quantify it…"

"I guess that's pretty close, then." Zack said. "For you at least."

Green eyes hardened and Sephiroth's gaze flicked up intensely to fix on Zack's face. Zack gave a small sigh, shifting to one side, feeling the mattress rock beneath him.

"I didn't mean it like that." He said. "You know I don't believe any of that stuff about you being cold or heartless. You just don't _articulate_ it much. To hear that you care about someone is pretty much unheard of. I mean, I'm pretty sure you've never told anyone you cared about me."

He gave a laugh, releasing Sephiroth's hair, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with the contact. He reached up, stretching out his back, and tried not to look at the uncomfortable expression on Sephiroth's face. He was good at people, but that didn't mean he never messed up. He couldn't take back the misstep now. He would just have to wait for Sephiroth to let it go.

"You are," Sephiroth grit his teeth. Zack could hear the tension and effort in the words. "Important as well."

Zack blinked, staring at the man with whom he'd shared so much, but never affection. Zack had always known he could count on Sephiroth to have his back, but that was in battle.

Sephiroth seemed to be waiting for something. He was sitting stiff and rigid before Zack, his eyes fixed on him as though waiting for retaliation. His lips pressed together, and Zack felt his own twitch into a smile in response.

"Wasn't easy for you to say, huh?" He murmured fondly.

Sephiroth's look of frustration increased, and Zack split into a grin. He shook his head, placing a hand on Sephiroth's shoulder. He felt the man twitch under the touch, jerk as though he was going to pull away, then restrain the motion. He squeezed his shoulder ever so slightly in appreciation of the restraint.

"You're important to me too." He said as clearly as he could, releasing Sephiroth's shoulder to put his hands in his lap again. "We're friends. Right?"

"Yes." Sephiroth said, his voice slightly rough.

For a while they were silent. Zack went back to trying to braid Sephiroth's hair, deprived of anything else to do, and the Silver General did not object.

"How long has it been now?" Zack asked, holding the end of a perfect braid between his fingers.

"Too long." Sephiroth replied, his eyes on the window and a quietly worried look hidden on his otherwise calm face. "Another hour since you last asked. The sun should have risen."

"You're sure?"

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, tilting his head up to gaze at Zack through disdainfully narrowed eyes.

"Right, right, perfect internal clock." Zack muttered. "Well, then, what are we supposed to do? Can't very well make the sun come up. And, I mean, even if it did, we're inside right now, so we wouldn't know. Maybe the power's just still off and—"

"I have a theory." Sephiroth interrupted smoothly, giving the slightest shake of his head. "I do not believe that we are in the true building at all any longer, but in another realm entirely. Similar to a summon spell's dimensional shift."

"That's a thing!?" Zack stared, frowning.

"It's a theory." Sephiroth gave a one-shouldered shrug. "You know to what I'm referring?"

"Yeah. Genesis used a summon like that on me in Banora, I think. Once it died things went back to normal, though."

"Hn," Sephiroth looked displeased, his eyes narrowed. "Like I said, it is only a thought about what may be happening. But if this were a similar event, then…"

"Killing the boss baddie should end it, right?" Zack filled in when Sephiroth trailed off. "But I guess that means going back out there, huh."

"Yes." Sephiroth responded, his voice bleak.

"And we're sure they're monsters and not ghosts or anything, right? Because I'm still not getting why this is happening. Is this supposed to be some kind of punishment?"

"I don't think so." Sephiroth lifted a hand slowly, touching it briefly to his face, rubbing at one eye slowly. "I would guess they were drawn to this place by something. Perhaps the emotions it invokes. Fear, anxiety…"

"But why us?"

"If my theory is right, and they are drawn to emotion…"

Zack glanced down, twirling the end of Sephiroth's braid around his fingers. "I guess we are pretty emotionally raw."

"I'm afraid so."

"I guess we don't have a choice but to face it, huh…"

"Zackary," Sephiroth trailed off, then shook his head, starting over. "Zack. You do not have to come."

"What?" Zack paused, thrown by hearing Sephiroth call him by his nickname again. The cold man had only used the painfully formal 'Zackary' since the disaster at Modeoheim.

"You are too young to feel so much guilt." Sephiroth said firmly. "And too good. You should stay and protect yourself here. I will handle finding the creature."

"Sephiroth, I saw your face out there. You're not any more comfortable with this than I am."

"But I am used to it." Sephiroth said softly. "I can handle myself, and maintain composure when faced with it. At least now that I know what it is."

"I'm not letting you go alone."

"Zack, I'm your General. It is my duty to protect you."

"And I'm your friend. It's my duty to have your back. Even if it's rough."

They stared at each other for a moment, then Zack lifted the braided tip of Sephiroth's hair, putting it over his lips so that the end draped like a mustache.

"Don't look so serious." He said, lowering his eyebrows and pouting under the silver fake mustache. "I took that one out with one swing, right?"

"Yes." Sephiroth confirmed, watching Zack use his braid as facial hair without cracking a smile. "But if it had looked like Angeal, could you have done it then?"

"Could you?" Zack asked, dropping the braid and the joking attitude.

"I have killed a hundred or more creatures bearing the face of one of my best friends. I have seen Genesis's dead eyes staring at me from faces that were at once his and not his. I can do the same with Angeal."

"Gods." Zack whispered after a moment. "I never… I never really thought about how horrible that must have been for you. You never seemed like you were bothered."

"If you did not notice, it is because I did not want you to." The man briskly unbraided his hair. "Let me handle it."

"You make a compelling argument," Zack said, "but as a puppy, it's my duty to follow you around and be annoying at all times, whether you ask me to or not."

Sephiroth stared at him, then cracked the smallest of smiles, lowering his chin in a quiet, small nod.

"Very well, then." He whispered. "Who am I to stand against the dreaded puppy?"

"You should feel lucky I stick to following you around and skip the sloppy puppy kisses." Zack teased, emboldened by Sephiroth's smile.

"You must let me deal with the shades that cause you pain." Sephiroth murmured, his voice low and firm, dropping the teasing demeanor. "I will not allow those memories to add to the weight you bear."

"Only if you let me handle the ones meant for you." Zack said, stepping up to Sephiroth's side and squaring his shoulders. He was still a little shorter than the General, but not by much anymore.

"It won't be easy." Sephiroth warned. "The people I murdered who I feel guilt for killing… All of them will be people who should not have died."

"What about that one scientist?" Zack asked, glancing at him. "He was someone you killed too?"

"No." Sephiroth replied. "Not exactly. Just someone I wish I could have been better for."

"Well, it's not going to get any easier standing here." Zack nodded to himself, gripping the Buster sword tightly and steeling his resolve. "Let's find the big boss and get the hell out of here."

"I recommend we head down the stairs." Sephiroth said grimly. "Take out only the creatures we must. Opposition became much more strenuous when we tried to take that route."

"Any clue why it wants to do this at all?" Zack asked. "I mean, it hasn't actually attacked us since the copies. Why doesn't it just let us go?"

"Wearing us down?" Sephiroth suggested, glancing over at Zack with an almost companionable look on his face. "It's hard to say. Perhaps it feeds on emotion. Perhaps it simply wanted to corner us and hold us until we were too weak to defend ourselves. Perhaps it is a ploy by a political or personal enemy who had this trap waiting for us."

"Man, being a hero is not what it's cracked up to be." Zack sighed, cocking on hip and tilting his head.

"Hn." Sephiroth lifted his chin almost playfully. "You're telling me."

He pushed the door open without another word, and Zack steeled himself, brandishing his blade.

Outside the door knelt the crying woman they'd seen on the stairs. She was keening low, pained sobs into her hands. Sephiroth stood still a moment, then stepped back, bowing his head. Zack took a deep breath, stepped forward, and sliced through the apparition. Just before the mirror monster broke apart, the woman's empty face looked up to him, teary eyes shuttering just before the monster flickered and vanished.

"I'm sorry." Sephiroth said, though whether to the spectre of a woman or to Zack was unclear.

Zack let the words stand, but nudged Sephiroth slightly with his shoulder in support. From the way Masamune sprung to his hand as he summoned her, he supposed Sephiroth took the encouragement.

They made it to the stairs, and Zack's stomach dropped at the sound of the creaking rope. Sephiroth vanished from his side in a flicker of light, and Zack let out a sigh of breath as a soft, shrill shriek of a monster cut through the sound of a hanging body, leaving the air still again.

"I'm going to kill this thing so hard." Zack whispered as Sephiroth reappeared at his side.

"Only if you get there first." Sephiroth's voice was grim, and Zack cast him an empathetic look.

He cut down the shadow of the man in a lab coat. Sephiroth twitched beside him, but didn't object. Zack kept his eyes fixed forward as Sephiroth executed a creature bearing Angeal's face.

The shadows shifted to the side, a dark wing unfurling and red hair glinting.

"You did this to me." Genesis's image whispered, eyes fixed on Sephiroth. "You did this—"

Sephiroth cut off his words with a weary snap of Masamune.

"I should have taken that one." Zack scolded softly. "He was your—" His brain supplied the word "friend" but he pushed it away, letting his sentence trail off into silence.

"I've watched his face die enough times." Sephiroth replied blankly. "I am inoculated to it."

From the stiffness in his shoulders and the way he moved, Zack doubted that very much. But Sephiroth had already opened up to him more than Zack could have hoped. He wasn't about to push it—Not when things were finally starting to feel right between them again.

"Guess we're headed out, then." Zack said, striding across the carpet after Sephiroth towards the doors. "Fingers crossed we at least get a good fight out of the last baddie. I could use to work off some—"

Sephiroth opened the front door, and the rest of Zack's words ground to a stop. The outside was not visible. They were in a little wooden house, facing an open cabinet. Clothes spilled out. Inside, a little girl was sobbing, clutching her broken doll. Her breaths wheezed and gargled, blood frothing at the corners of her mouth and tears streaming down her face. She couldn't have been more than five.

Sephiroth shut down. He stood at Zack's side, still holding his blade, but Zack saw the lights flicker out in his eyes—saw the PTSD that his friend swore to the moon he did not have slam into him like a freight train. And he saw why.

"A mā…" The child was whispering, over and over in endless repetition. Her voice terribly small, filled with the wet sound of blood in her throat and mouth.

"No." Sephiroth whispered, his voice a rough rasp.

Zack stepped forward, but he couldn't raise his blade. Dark, wide eyes filled with tears stared up at him. They were not unseeing. If she had been senseless, perhaps there might have been some comfort he could give to her. But she was not. The fear in her eyes as she stared up at Zack was palpable.

The only thing that ruined the illusion was the reflection in her eyes of Sephiroth. Zack allowed himself a moment to look his General's memory in the eye, seeing the young man reflected at him in her gaze. His silver hair was in disarray, blood spattered his skin, and he wore a look of horror on a face that had not yet learned to be blank.

"I'm sorry," Zack whispered, forcing his hand to lift the Buster sword.

His wrist was caught in a grip like a vice, and he looked back to see Sephiroth's stony expression.

"Not with Angeal's blade." Sephiroth choked. "I have no honor to sully. Let his memory remain untainted."

"Sephiroth, you can't—"

"I will do what I should have at the time." Sephiroth lifted Masamune, slicing swiftly and neatly. "Put her out of her misery."

Sephiroth's sword pierced the child's heart in one stroke, and Zack flinched despite the fact that the memory was long past—The girl before them had died years and years ago. Rather than reacting as reality would have, the girl's chest fractured, like broken glass. Then the rest of the room started to crack into pieces too. The girl stopped sobbing, staring up with remarkably clear eyes, blood streaming down her chin.

"Móguǐ." She whispered as she glared up at Sephiroth with accusation in her eyes.

The room shattered like glass under pressure, and Zack grabbed for Sephiroth. He hauled the frozen man's head down to guard them both from the spray of glass. Sephiroth gave a shuddering gasp as he was yanked down by the back of his neck, but he didn't struggle.

Zack closed his eyes tightly, covering Sephiroth's head with his body, pressing his own face into the General's back in the awkward guard. The sting of glass burned against his back for a moment, then vanished as though it had never been there.

For a moment, Zack stayed perfectly still. Then he slowly straightened, releasing Sephiroth's head, untangling his sweaty hand from the long silver locks.

He opened his eyes to their bedroom, with the incessant light of the attractions outside sneaking through the curtains, and the hum of motors and mechanized horrors filling the world. They were standing in the middle of the empty room. The mirror that had been hanging on the side of Sephiroth's bed was fractured to pieces.

Sephiroth was still a moment, then lifted a hand to carefully pat Zack's shoulder. He moved over slowly to the broken mirror, nudging it with the tip of his boot, as though waiting for it to rise.

"Are you okay?" Zack asked, stepping up from behind him to look down into the shattered mirror pieces.

"Are you?" Sephiroth spoke in barely a whisper, and the words sounded strangely sorrowful.

Zack looked down at their broken reflections, and felt his knees weaken and his stomach twist.

"Right." Zack sighed, leaning against the solid weight of Sephiroth in silent support. "Stupid question."

"Let's just get out of here." Sephiroth rubbed a hand over his face slowly. "I want to go home."

Zack nodded his approval, trying not to flinch at the sound of guests playfully screaming at the mock horrors.

"Just one last thing." He muttered, glancing to the ceiling of the room.

It was quietly remarked upon by the staff that the two Soldiers had gathered their things and left without a word. Some thought it was rude, but most of them just added it to the list of intriguing gossip for the next issue of the Silver Elite's fan magazine, along with the broken mirror and the seemingly unused beds.

If anyone noticed that the word 'guilty' had been scorched off the ceiling that night, they never brought it up. Not even to the fan clubs.


End file.
